


Aurores Boreales

by Sing



Series: Light Your Way Home Trilogy [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, small town
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: After an event that shook her up Abbie finally makes the acquaintance of Ichabod Crane.Wrestling her insecurities and a choice that still nags, Abbie finds herself woven deeper into other lives, when all she wants is to straighten out her own.But maybe letting someone in, is the key to letting go.Maybe finding home, is finding herself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sleepy hollow

We leave Mabie's together, in Luke's car.

I sit up front, Crane, his head hung dejectedly since his blowout at the bar sits behind quietly. When I glance up in the mirror I see him back there, looking miserable. Beaten down, weary. I have a hard time dismissing the angry roil of his voice and look out the windows eagerly until we pull onto my street. We pull into the driveway.

I twist in my seat when we arrive and meet eyes with Luke. I had told him in sputtering half starts after that I couldn't tolerate company of a stranger, not after the day I've had. Not when Crane's outburst had sent me free wheeling so rapidly back to Orion cornering me in the parking lot today. He'd protested. Crane had excused himself to the washroom while Luke and I had spoke, and when he emerged, I had finally convinced Luke that, yes, sure, I'm positive, yes, I'll….I'll be fine the rest of the night by myself. Look after Mr. Crane. He's volatile, unpredictable----

And just as those words were leaving my mouth was when Crane had rejoined us. We'd both turned to face him, his face flushed and wringing is hands before dropping them at his side. He'd met eyes with Luke before turning to me. I'd unwittingly stepped back from him,. a hand loosely grasping Luke's sleeve.

"Miss Mills," He'd started. "Miss…..I….I'm very sorry that you…..I shouldn't have……" Luke and I both watched him struggle until he heaved a defeated sigh. "I wish I could tell you that wasn't really me…… but it, that, was, me."

"I wish I could tell you that you didn't terrify me back there but you did." I said bluntly. He'd flinched.

That was back at Mabies.

The drive over since has been stiffing quiet. Luke hits the button to unlock the doors and I let myself out, uneasily glancing back towards Mr.Crane in the car looking out the window distantly. I feel a little antsy wondering if he'll remember my address.

Luke comes out the car and approaches me. "Are you sure? Abbie, I……I'll figure something out if I have too…."

I shake my head tightly. "It's fine, Luke. I'll be fine. I…..I just need a bath, and to sleep."

I watch the silent war that wages inside of him on Luke's face before he breathes deep and looks over my house, eyes squinted. "Let me look the place over," he says. "And then I'll go."

* * *

 

Much like before, he checks the perimeters, down stairs, the basement, "And he didn't have a key?" he queries, checking my doors.

"No."

"When are you going to file a report, Abbie."

"You don't understand, Luke. Something like this is going to draw a crowd for him, and then people are going to look at me."

Luke clenches his fists. "Are you really trying to protect him?"

"No I'm trying to protect myself, my privacy, my life."

"Your life is safer if you press charges."

"Luke." I hiss meaningfully. "What we're not about to do, is argue with me, about how I handle my trauma. Let me be a human for a damn minute. Let me be flawed."

"You ever heard of fatal ones?" he presses, struggling to keep his voice level and calm. "You know how many cases there are of women who are murdered---"

" _Luke_ "

My heart beats a thousand miles per minute.

He blinks, seeming to register that he's not helping.

"That's _not, going to be me,_ okay? Orion got out of line today, but I….I told him I'm through. He's not stupid. He was hot headed but---"

"You've told him you're through before and he still followed you here---"

"----look I don't want the attention Luke! I don't….." I blink my eyes and will the tears to go away. "For the first time Luke, I…..I don't wanna be _seen,_ for a bit. Alright? I've done so much….put myself, us, through so much, trying to…..trying to be, make myself worth noticing and seeing and all I have now, is….." I tentatively touch my wrist and look away. " _Orion_ saw me, " I choke, "and this is where I am now. So for once, I just want to, lay low."

"Abbie it's natural for you to be scared but you need to come forward. You should always come forward, you've got to understand…..I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I have you on speed dial," I say finally. "You've checked the house,"

Luke's eyes linger on my face. "Say the word, You say the word, and…." his voice trails off. "Be safe. Be careful."

I bob my head. "I will. It's fine, today was unusual circumstances but, it's fine, Luke. I'm going, to be fine."

I watch Luke go, watch as Crane emerges from the back and slides into the passenger seat. He sees me standing in the doorway and raises a hand weakly in an unsure wave.

Maybe I approximate something like a wave back. Luke honks as he pulls out the driveway and I slump down by the door andbreathe.

* * *

 

Monday Morning.

Staff room chatters. Caroline titters something about not having the time to design backdrop to Sophie who runs a hand through her hair restlessly.

"You've gotta know someone Caroline, I can't do it. I'm having a hard enough time getting them to stand in a straight line on stage---"

"Between my art classes and teaching here----"

"Don't you have a student that could----"

"It's all my beginner sessions at the moment, and incredibly,"

I tune out of that conversation and go to the coffee machine. Joe lingers near it. He darts a glance at me and then looks toward the clock hanging on the opposite wall. So different from the happy, friendly colleague I've gotten used to.

But I suppose that was before I'd seen and heard things I shouldn't have. I fill a mug and lean on the counter.

"Had a good weekend?" I venture.

Joe barks a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face. "You were there for part of it." he counters, defensive, until he groans and blinks several times, hard. "It's true," he says.

I sip the coffee. Too strong, too bitter.

"What, what Mr. Crane, said," Joe reiterates. "It's true."

Chewing the inside of my cheek I think of Katrina Crane.

Still in discussion I note that Sophie stiffened at mention of Crane and she turns a little in her seat, ear cocked, listening to us. The halls outside begin to fill with the morning music. Other faculty members sidestep around Joe and I, even Caroline purses her lips that Sophie has seemingly stopped paying attention and gathers her sweater and bag in a huff.

"Maybe if I have help," she concedes as she goes, talking a bit louder to regain Sophie's attention. "I'll see if any of them can pitch in."

"Sorry Caroline I spaced," Sophie apologizes, rising to her feet as well and approaching us. She's to the point. "You say Crane?" she asks, nodding to Joe.

His face colours. "Sure did,"

Sophie glances around, checking that the others have left, before she leans in, lowering her voice. "He alright?" he answers with confusion on his face.

"Tore me a new one at Mabie's last night, so I guess so," he grunts irritably. He drains the mug, depositing it in the sink and grabs a sheaf of papers, heavily ornamented with red pen and circled grades in the top left corner. It looks like Jenna Mitchell might be taking summer school if she doesn't buckle down. Sophie watches him go, dumbstruck.

"Did I miss something? He got into it with Mr. Crane?" I shrug, nonchalant. "Why would Crane have anything to say to him?" she continues.

"Class, Foster," I chide.

"I only ask, because I saw him this weekend, it looks like Mrs. Crane lefthim. Took Aurore."

I don't, want, to be, involved.

She hustles after me as I leave and keeps pace with me half way to my classroom. "Hey," she calls. "Hey Mills, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine---"

"Hey wait," she grabs for my arm, my bag slips down, catching at my hand oddly and I hiss. She reels away as if scalded. A brow raised. "Sorry, Abbie…. wanted to remind you about rehearsal tonight." 

I take deep breaths through my nose.

"Are you sure? You don't ……seem really, here."

"It's _nothing_ ," I grit out, gathering my bag as the children file in past me.

"Morning Miss Mills!"

"G'morning Miss Mills!"

"Hi!"

"Hurry up or you'll be late," one of them playfully scolds me.

"Richard, shut up,"

"You shut up Kayla,"

"Kids," I admonish as I stand, whirling around after them and catch sight of Aurore filing in. Her hair neatly braided and clothes pressed and…..more put together than I think I've ever known her to be. When I glance into theclassroom I notice Kayla in another ensemble that corresponds with Aurore's. I guess that means Mrs. Crane is staying with the Irving's.

"Morning Miss Mills," she says, shy but sweet.

"Good Morning Aurore,"

"You were at church yesterday, my mom said she saw you."

I muster a smile. I hope her mother didn't also tell Aurore she saw me getting manhandled in the rain. "I was. Take a seat I'll be right in,"

She opens her mouth again, to say God only knows what I pray she isn't about to prove that Katrina blathered but then she thinks better of it and goes inside, wedging herself between Kayla and Richard who are annoying each other while their classmates look on in amusement.

It takes me a moment to realize Sophie hasn't left yet. "You're late for class,"

Sophie blinks and looks at me, eyes zipping to and fro as if scanning for information before she shakes her head. "I don't know how those two managed to raise her, lucky thing she's….so even tempered by comparison."

"You're, late. Sophie." I huff, tucking strands behind my ears and righting my things.

"Hey what did you do to your wrist."

I freeze. I look at my hand, where the sleeve has fallen back. The bruises that look worse in hallway fluorescence. She leans in and I step hurriedly back.

"Did you hit it on something?"

" ** _Go to class, Foster._** " I grind out.

Maybe she lingers there maybe she doesn't.

I don't look back after I slam the door.

Several pairs of eyes and heads snap up as I enter. "Good Morning!" I call brightly. "How was your weekend?"

See.

I'm _fine._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So uh, picks up that monday so long ago after the weekend everyone had from hell.  
> Crane gets a visitor.  
> Abbie has inner thoughts.  
> Aurore sings.   
> And other things.

The day passes. Rehearsal is conducted. Aurore sings, Kayla beats a pattern on the drum I got for her, happily, beaming. I forget, or I convince myself, I've forgotten everything that might trouble me, there in that room full of children, making music. Making song.

At this moment, song feels like the only thing I might have left, for sanctuary, for peace of mind.

And what an irony, that in the same breath I feel as though I don't have a voice.

Do I dare sing my fear and years long ache?

Do I dare curl everything I am inside into the keening melody that builds and builds and pressures behind my eyes with tears, tears I tell myself come from the beauty of these children singing, not the trauma I fight and battle on my own.

After all of it, after everything, here I am, with damn near nothing to my name for it, the choices, the risk, the pain, my losses.

Jenny. Because life meant to spite me for my first sacrifice, and took her anyway. My mother, because a woman who connives and plots and lies torun from home doesn't deserve to come back to one. My Father.

Cause we weren't ever enough for him.

Things I gave.

Things I lost, the selfish sick relief I'd felt because another tie to a man that wishes to bind me would surely break me---

_"For one so small you seem so strong,_

_my arms will hold you keep you safe and warm,"_

Hah.

Who protected me.

Whoever protected _me?_

From the disappointments of life, from the heart breaks of abandonment, from _myself._

I stop conducting and let them sing. They know what they're doing. Diligent and hardworking as they are.

 _"Why can't they understand the way we feel"_ Aurore sings, breaking me from my thoughts. Her voice is raw in a way I've never heard before. Different from the sweet innocent soprano I know. Something that hurts. It shouldn't hurt. A little girl like Aurore shouldn't know confused pain, but it's there, things she can't name, and it prickles my skin. My eyes locks with hers.

For the first time it occurs to me Aurore has wise eyes for a child. Vaguely weary in addition to being bright eyed and keen.

_"They just don't trust what they can't explain,_

_I know we're different but,_

_deep inside us,_

_we're not that different at all,"_

She crescendos. My heart stutters.

_Familiar._

Kayla bangs out the rhythm triumphantly.

" ** _And_ _you'll be in my heart!"_**

* * *

 

Earlier

Monday morning. Crisp evergreen collared shirt tucked into the tulip skirt with the navy sweater hugging her close. Tan pumps extend out of the car that's pulled into the driveway. Crane watches with narrowed eyes from his kitchen window before meandering to the door, opening it before his visitor can knock.

Cynthia pauses with her hand in midair. Takes a deep breath before lowering her hand back down to her side. "Good morning."

"Tell me what's good about it," he snaps. "You storm in here yesterday and help the mother of my child, betrayer of vows---"

Cynthia opens her mouth to retort but an argument is not why she came here.

"You conspire with her to take away my child. My. Child. Myblood. God knows, Katrina's treacherous womb wouldn't bare after what she did to me,"

"You made her too much of a wreck for anything to hold, or release, or anything to be normal with her Crane." She says calmly, cursing to herself. "You made it----"

"She made mistakes and I made it worse is that what you want to hear? an admission to wave triumphantly above my head in court? _Is that what you want_ " he demands, voice climbing higher with rage.

Cynthia backs away from the door. "That's not why I came," she says softly, overcome. For all the hurt he's caused, Crane, is in pain. She feels it.

But hell, haven't they all, been feeling it lately.

"That's not it, Crane I."

" _Out_ with it," he spits.

"I came to say I'm sorry,"

He pauses, his ire evaporates.

"That scene," she goes on. "In front of Aurore, Frank, Katrina, myself, we were all wrong for it, Crane. You too." she adds pointedly. "But I, we, didn't help. Our children should never see us like that, can't control our emotions, can't behave like, adults. I'm sorry, I laid my hands on you, Ichabod Crane. It was uncalled for. And I'm so sorry, that I made that something our daughters had to witness."

"I shouldn't have said that thing to you." he begins, overwhelmed by her apology. His own pride and that scene aside, Cynthia's words have highlighted the damage their confrontation has done to their children, and that strikes deep. "About Abraham, that…..I know you didn't, you wouldn't, and Cynthia….What I did, that night, no amount of drunkenness, or hurt feelings, can excuse me coming into your home and…."

"Nothing happened."

"I offended you, and I know that must have triggered you----"

"I forgive you."

Crane hasn't heard those words, for all the harm he's done to his marriage, he didn't expect he would ever earn them. He thought he was beyond caring about redemption.

"I forgive you, Ichabod Crane" her voice wavers, it's no easy thing for her. He has disrespected her and has made her best friend, ride or die, cry for years. He has brought turmoil to her goddaughters life. But it's got to start, somewhere. Right now, Cynthia might be the only person in a place involved enough, and yet with enough distance, to offer him this. "I can't excuse what you've done, the decisions, the mistakes you made. But they are, just that. Mistakes. You can still right those, if you want to."

"Cynthia---"

Before he can continue Cynthia reaches into her bag and withdraws an envelope, extending it to him. He takes it, realization dawning on him, his fingers tremble. "That's what you think it is." She says. "The divorce papers. And she's going to fight you for Aurore, Crane. And I'm going to represent her but all I really want is for Aurore to be happy. So I'll tell you this right now. They're gonna want to know you're sober. That you're employed. A relationship, a beneficial one, with Aurore. People who can vouch for you. Prove you're a functional human being, a credit to society….damnit that you can parent. Prove you can parent."

Crane gapes at her, bombarded, trying to understand if, Cynthia Irving is trying to help him. "How,"

"Get involved in her life. At her school. Communicate with teachers. Did I say get sober? And you should probably see a therapist." She withdraws a card and hands it to him. everything is put on fast forward now. The calm strange moment of building bridges rudely interrupted with the imminent future. Consequences creeping up behind him now for all of his indiscretions, poor choices, unresolved pains. Breathing down his neck.

"Cynthia,"

"I can't do more." She huffs and shakes her head. "I can't do more, Crane. But it's only fair that if you can wake up and turn around you get a fair shot to do right. And, and maybe Kat will change her mind if she can see that change in you." she adds meaningfully. "She doesn't hate you, Crane. She just hates what you've become. What she's become being with you. But she _loves_ Aurore. You know that. How she came to be isn't any matter to keep beating her up with because at the end of the day she loves, the daughter you have, _together_. She wants what's best in her life. Hell Crane, we'd all be glad, really, if you could prove it." words spent, Cynthia glances at her watch and turns on her heel, casting one final look at him before she gets in the car. "Have a good day."

Crane watches her go, his heart hammering fast. Cynthia's voice runs on loop in his mind, the only thing he keeps coming back to, seems able to hold onto for a minute is 'Get involved in her life. At her school.'

* * *

 

At lunch Abbie stays in her class room and Joe locks himself down in the teachers lounge when Sophie ventures to the caf. Her minds trails to Ichabod Crane though she so wishes it wouldn't. He brought her disaster once and one encounter shouldn't tie her up with him again, but she feels exactly that. At least like she ought to check up on him. She sits with Caroline in the caf, who glares at her being distracted while they try to solve the backdrop problem.

"I mean I'm not sure I believe you need all this help if you keep spacing out on me," Caroline frowns.

"I'm sorry Caroline, I'm just shaken up about this weekend," she chews her lips thoughtfully. Caroline purses her lips, furrows her brow before she takes a pull from her soda.

"What happened this weekend."

"Ran into Crane."

" _Hah!_ " her companion's shoulders begin to shake with mirthless laughter. "Well that would ruin my weekend too."

"Caroline, I mean it. He….he seemed off. I think things are going badly for him."

"That shouldn't surprise any of us. Least of all him."

"You didn't see him. He looked wrecked. I don't want to gossip."

"Mhmm yet _here_ you are." Caroline muses with a raised disapproving brow yet Sophie barrels on.

"I think Mrs. Crane left him, took Aurore."

Another disenchanted laugh. "I'm sorry Sophie but I'm a far cry from being upset about Ichabod Crane. Let his wife rain hellfire on my studio, did you forget? Upset all my students that evening. Some of them come to art classes as a form of therapy. Those two completely shattered any peace those people found that night."

"How many years ago was that Caroline come on----"

"About as many since she slashed your tires." she retorts hotly. Sophie sits back aghast. She didn't think Caroline had it in her to hit back so fast.

"Well."

"Well indeed."Caroline hisses. "You need to leave that man alone. Whatever his family is going through, we're teachers, our business is classrooms, not home life."

Course she doesn't want anything to do with bringing Crane back into her life, but Sophie can't help but think a man who seemed so low on the weekend should be left to flounder there. An idea occurs to her. Her eyes light up and Caroline puts down her fork.

"The backdrop."

" _No_."

"Caroline."

"I said, no."

* * *

 

The envelope sits on the kitchen table while he makes himself coffee. Trying to sort his thoughts. Find cohesion in the whirlwind when the phone rings. He frowns at the number.

"Miss Foster?"

"Hey, Crane. Just wanted to check in on you."

"I've been better."

A pause. "You know I am sorry to hear you're having a rough time, Crane."

"An understatement," he replies curtly. "I thank you for, staying to make sure I didn't do myself any harm. That night."

"You're welcome. Look, Crane? I also had something to ask you, if…..if it might help."

* * *

 

Crane agreed, enthusiastically, hurriedly, showered and ate cereal and later peanut butter and jelly for his lunch. Put on the cleanest but also the oldest things he could find, he didn't want to chance getting paint on the good things he had left.

He'd need the good things for court appearances.

He signed in at the front desk, to the shocked face of the secretary. He'd walked the halls he hadn't forgotten. Turned into the auditorium that was the same. Down the aisles, amid row on row of empty seating. The gaggle of children on the stage sing brightly but brightest of all is his girl, his beam. Daddy's little ray of sun.

_"Why can't they understand the way we feel"_

_"They just don't trust what they can't explain,_

_I know we're different but,_

_deep inside us,_

_we're not that different at all,"_

She looks up, past her teacher, past the rows, and finds him. His little girl sees him and sings louder than he ever thought she could.

**_"And you'll be in my heart!"_ **

He stops there, and listens.

**_"Yes you'll be in my heart!_ **

**_From this day on, now and forever, more,_ **

**_You'll be in my heart._ **

**_No matter what they say,"_ **

His eyes brim.

* * *

 

Abbie is stunned, her breath taken away and only is distracted by the sudden shift of Aurore's gaze to just behind her, over her shoulder. When Abbie turns, she blinks in disbelief.

She feels as though she's seeing too much of this man lately. But at least he looks, together. It becomes clear to her then. Aurore's singing to her father.

" ** _You'll be in my heart, Always."_**

The song ends. Sophie and Caroline planning in the corner break into applause and Abbie is forced to do the same, touched and in awe of Aurore's performance. But they all pause, hearts touched, because they all know more than anyone should about the child's personal life, when she bounds happily from the stage and streams into his waiting arms.

"Daddy! what are you doing here?"

His voice is choked up. "I'm….I'm going to help, p-p-paint, the backdrop---" he's overcome. "That was beautiful sweetheart."

Aurore beams.

"I hope this doesn't backfire." Caroline murmurs half heartedly. Sophie nudges her.

Abbie makes her way to them, laying a hand gently on Aurore's shoulder. "That was amazing, Aurore. Phenomenal."

"Thank you Miss Mills!" throwing her arms around her legs.

"Oh!" Abbie exclaims, patting her on the back before she runs back stage where Sophie begins giving orders for what's next.

That leaves Abbie and Crane. They're both teary eyed. Not so different from when they saw each other last, but hey at least they aren't emotional wrecks, or not as emotionally wrecked as they were then.

"Mr. Crane." she nods. "You look well."

"As do you, Miss Mills."

She looks him over, gives another nod, and goes back to helping run rehearsal.

He watches her go before Caroline calls him over to get started.

"Alright guys let's run it from the top!" Sophie bellows and the kids all come running out, back in their places.

From the top, Crane muses to himself. Sure. It's small and abrupt.

But let's start over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp here we are.

Rehearsal progresses smoothly, with only one or two glances cast his way from other teachers who've poked their heads in, impressed by the children singing.

Caroline gave him instructions and then had gone as far as possible as she could to survey his work, calling over any further directions rather than approach him.

He'd think the behaviour was odd, if he couldn't so clearly empathize with Miss Caroline's skittishness. Katrina has not been kind in her rages past. She remembers to keep a cool head now, broken and demolished by the truth that her husband is not going to be shamed or reprimanded into being the man he could be. At least not for her. 

At the end of rehearsal, he's unprepared for his daughter to come charging at his legs, face to wide open and expecting."I'm ready to go!" she chimes.

"Aur---" a few paces behind her is Kayla, a hand outstretched and falling to her side as she looks on. In her eyes is uncertainty. She looks away from him guiltily, as if she's been caught doing something bad.

It takes a moment for him to register that Kayla was calling Aurore to go home. That his daughter, happily swinging her hand in his and turning him around for the auditorium doors--- expects _he'll_ be taking her home.

"Aurore, sweetheart,"

"Is mom with you?"

He falters, mouth gone dry and heart breaking. He hadn't taken into account how this might seem to her.That she might have gotten the impression that his turning up here today, means all is well at home. He trembles as he pets her hair. The neat little curls and whorls coaxed into the braids running along her scalp.

Unwontedly a flickering memory of Katrina struggling with their daughters hair fills his mind and he feels his eyes burning hot.

"Daddy?"

"I----" he gasps. "I'm not---"

"Aurore?" Kayla gets up the bravery to tip toe forward, approaching cautiously. Eyes meeting and darting away again from his. When she finally approaches she looks down at her feet. "Hi Mr. Crane."

"Kayla," he breathes. "Hi, how are you? don't you look smart today."

Her head lifts, unsure, and chances a smile. "Thank you. Um. How are you."

"I'm well, thank you," he continues, grateful to focus on pretending to be aput together adult, letting the strain of this conversation force him to level out.

"Are…..are you taking Aurore home, today?"

Crane shuts his eyes tight before exhaling, "No," he gives his daughter's hand a light squeeze as she protests sharply, as if jolted.

" _ **No?**_ "

"Aurore?"

He stills.

"Kayla? come on, your mother wouldn't let me cook today so we're going out……." She trails off and pauses in the aisle. He glances over his shoulder and sees Katrina.

Hair swept back in a low pony tail. Jeans, t shirt. A cardigan. He turns to face her and puts on a smile.

"Trina."

"Ichabod," her movements are slow and calculating as she finds her footing again. Around them, other children call fare wells to one another and bundle themselves down the other aisles to other parents and caregivers, some of the older ones helping put back instruments and aiding Sophie and Caroline in tidying up.

Katrina's voice carries over to them in the corner and Sophie and Caroline slow as they saunter past with paints and brushes, passing slow assessing gazes over her. Sophie lingers a little longer, glaring before Caroline steps on her heel and grumbles for her to keep moving, abruptly avoiding Katrina's eyes. "They've got long memories," she drawls.

In spite of himself, his lips twitch in a near chuckle. There's nothing funny about the horror he's visited on these women's lives, inadvertently tying them up in the saga of his marriage, but the tension is so thick and he so desperately needs a reprieve from it.

To her credit, Katrina arches a brow at him, unamused. "What are you doing here."

He bristles at her tone, "I'm helping with the backdrops. They needed help here, Miss Foster----"

She raises a hand for silence, uninterested in the how or why, redirecting her attention to her daughter. "How was rehearsal sweetheart?"

"Good, daddy got to hear me sing!"

"I'm sure he loved that.I can't wait to hear you darling."

"She really is something else, Katrina, you should have been here."

She swallows and meets his gaze. "It's nice to see you, helping them, I'm glad you could. Aurore, it's time to go----"

But their daughter chooses to dig her heels in, tightening her grip on her fathers hand.

"Come on sun beam," Crane coaxes, guiding her forward. "Come on, head home, get dinner."

"That's not home." she says, defiant.

Over her head, her parents exchange a look.

Kayla sidles away. "I'll….I'll be in the car!" and makes herself scarce. The auditorium is quiet now, everyone packed up and gone.

" _That's not my home_!" Aurore repeats voice growing louder.

"No," Katrina admits softly, kneeling to be at level. "We're just visiting with Goddy for a while."

"An extended sleepover" He says. "That's all love, go on,"

"Why can't daddy come? Uncle Frank is coming to dinner why can't daddy?"

"I'm….I'm busy, this evening sweetheart," he supplies. "I've….got a lot of daddy things to do and……"

Aurore looks at him distrustfully and removes her hand. "No you don't." she says, she's not certain how she knows its true, but it is, she can feel it, he's avoiding them. "No you **_don't,_** " her eyes sting and she turns away, burying her face in Katrina's leg.

Katrina pets her hair. "He does, Aurore, your father, has lots of things to do, tons of things. He's very busy."

"Doing what" She fires back, hot tears tracking down her face.

"Would you like to come?" Katrina mouths desperately to him. Seeing her daughter upset like this eradicates any misgivings she has about joining them. She can't bare to see Aurore like this.

Crane fumbles. He saw Cynthia this morning yes, but the business of apologies to Frank and spending an evening with them all, makes him sorely uneasy.

"Please." she pleads.

"I…..how about dessert?" he manages. He can't handle the idea of dinner with the Irvings just yet, "I can take her for ice cream?"

"Noooo" Aurore wails, distraught. "I want both of you. Together. Say sorry and be nice to each other again."

"Honey,"

"Aurore, your mother and I haven't been nice to each other in a while….."

"It's because _you_ won't say sorry and _she_ won't **_either!_** " she blasts, fed up she tugs away from Katrina as well, taking up a fast trot out of the room.

"Aurore!" she turns after her, flapping a hand in Crane's direction as a goodbye. He watches them go, crestfallen.

Footsteps makes him stiffen again. They hadn't been alone through all of that after all.

* * *

 

I guided the children with the tambourines and shakers back to the music room, Richard proudly carrying the box at front of the line, since my hands still ache to carry too much weight. I reenter through the stage doors to grab my coat and purse when I hear them. I know these sounds. Calm, tense, measured voices. Every sentence lilting up at the end like a question they aren't vulnerable enough to phrase properly, answers that aren't satisfactory to a little girl for whom her picture of a loving home is slowly clearly, shattering.

"It's because you won't say sorry and she won't either!"

I flinch at that. The scuffle of footsteps signals to me that they must have left. Imagine my dismay to emerge and find Ichabod Crane still standing there. I dodge back behind the curtains as he turns and calls "Hello? anyone there?"

I ease back through the stage doors and let the door click softly shut behind me.

* * *

 

Cynthia frowns as mother and child slide into the car. Aurore arms folded, face scrunched and closed off. Kayla reaches tentatively over, shuffling Aurore's backpack onto the floor and touches her leg lightly. "Rore?"

"Leave me alone."

Stung, Kayla withdraws to her end, gazing determinedly out the window, occasionally stealing a glance at her friend. Katrina fastens herself in with a huff.

"Hey." Cynthia pats her knee. "What's going on? Kayla came out without you guys,"

"Ichabod was there."

"……oh?"

"Apparently Miss Foster took it upon herself to be helpful, you should have seen the look she gave me, as if she wasn't the one who….." she takes a breath. "I bet she's enjoying this. Her and Caroline."

"No one in their right mind could enjoy, this, Kat. You two didn't fight did you?" she glances worriedly up in the rear view mirror as she backs out of the parking spot. "Not after yesterday? She already took yesterday rough"

"We didn't but as you can see, she took today even harder," her brow pinches and dashes tears from her eyes. "She wanted us to go home," she whispers brokenly. "Together."

"Oh Kat."

She shakes her head and sighs. "I don't now how I'm going to do this. How do I do this and not hurt her"

"I really don't know if there's a way around that, to be honest." She merges into traffic. "Who's in the mood for pizza and games!" she calls cheerfully back but is met with only one feeble exclamation. In the corner Aurore has unfolded her arms but stares vacantly out the opposite window. The women give one another a look. Cynthia grasps Katrina's hand, lowering her voice.

"You can try your best not to hurt her, she might be anyway. But we can all do our best to help her heal. And, it's a good sign isn't it? if Crane's volunteering at her school?"

"I just hope it's not an act." For a moment seeing them there, she had felt a twinge in her heart, of what their lives should have been, followed quickly by the vicious realization that it wouldn't, couldn't. There is no love there anymore.

Nothing that could repair the bridge they've burned. "I hope he means it. For her. All I care about is her."

* * *

 

At home I kick off my shoes, drop my bag and pick up the phone to order a pizza, I don't want to took. My wrists are still sore. My knee has a small ache from where I scraped it the day before. While I wait I go upstairs and wash my face and look at the bruises that I hid from Sophie. Wear a sweater, tomorrow, Mills, I coach myself. Snug fitting one.

The house is empty and creaky but for the first time it decides to plague me with memories.

Distant hazy images of mama and daddy arguing. The sense of dread looming over my head. The shift of air that things aren't right, and won't be. Jenny……Jenny following me around, her only refuge from the rising and falling cadence and then eruption of their voices.

She'd been my shadow.

In the midst of all the tumult, we'd had each other.

When dad left, it was just us, me mama and Jenny. We were all we had, and direly needed to stay together. That's why it was worth it to sacrifice my college fun for her treatments.

That's why it stung so much, hurt so bad, when we lost her anyway.

We buried my sister and my hopes for the future were gone with her. Dead, lost things. And then all there was, was me and our mother.

Then I left.

I left mama alone here, to ramble along in this house with memories of the decay of her marriage and the daughter she lost to sickness and the one she lost to the world.

Now I've got it, with the memory of the mother I deceived until the day she died.

And there is no one here now, while I ruminate on these things or my pains.

Maybe it's a debt I owe. Something I'm supposed to pay, to be alone now, for abandoning her. When I was all she had, I raced out of here so fast, and she needed me.

When you're going through something, you need people, you need to be along but God you need people. People who bolster you and keep you standing and I………

my mind drifts back to sweetest little girl in my class with the voice of an angel and a startled tear comes to my eye.

I hope she's better off tonight than I am.

I hope she's got someone. 

 


End file.
